I talked to a bunch of third graders...and I liked it.

I went into school the other day to talk to Alex's class about Autism.  Nothing instills fear in me as much as talking to a small hoard of third graders.  Kids---they are unpredictable, they are young and for the most part, they say what's on their mind.

They scare me.

Earlier in the year we had an incident where Alex was bullied and that spurred the question of, "What do the kids know about Autism?  Do they know anything?  Do they even know he has it?"  The answers came back as no, no and no.  The kids knew nothing.

I though that maybe if they knew something, heck anything, there may be some compassion.  They may have some understanding of why he does what he does and maybe with understanding would come some form of acceptance.    

I'll be the first to tell you, I worked with our school to do this.  Our teachers are great and in some ways I am really blessed.  They get it.  They get Alex.  They get me and they are willing to work with the things I suggest.

I had a PowerPoint presentation and from that presentation, I made a book for each child in Alex's class.  I wanted each one of them to have something to bring home so their parents could see what we went over in class.  Truth be told, I did it in the hopes that the parents would know what I talked about, and maybe just maybe, there would be further discussion at home.

A thing of beauty.  

Anyway, it turned out to be really interesting.  And enlightening.  For all of us.  The kids were really interested.  The teacher had told the students on Monday I would be coming in, later in the week, and asked if they had any questions about Autism.  None of the kids new a stitch.  They wanted to know things like:

• Can I catch it?
• How do you get it?
• What is it and where does it come from?

So when I went in last week, we had the presentation on the White Board.  They use this all the time in class and its basically a computer screen on a white board (imagine that) on the wall.  The kids all sat around in a circle eating their snacks and before I could even start a boy asked, "What is it?"

I was nervous, scared and worried.  Alex had elected to stay and listen and I was scared to death he would be upset or have a meltdown.  

"Well, my name is Mrs. Cole and I'm Alex's mom.  I'm here to talk a little bit about Autism.  You all had some really good questions for your teacher earlier in the week.  I guess you should know that the reason why I'm here talking to you about Autism is because Alex has Autism.  Did you guys know that?"

I was met with wide eyes and blank stares and a few kids chomping their Doritos's.  Alex was quiet.  He was in the back of the class and his para was next to him, keeping a close eye on him.    

"So you had questions about how do you get Autism and if you can catch it.  Those are really good questions..."

Still, twenty-three sets of eyes, all wide open, all with blank stares, looking right at me.  It was like looking down the barrel of a gun.

"A person is born with Autism.  You can't catch it.  You just have it.  It's like you have brown eyes or blond hair.  You have what you were born with.  When a person is born with Autism, it means their brain is a little different.  Its just the way a person is born.  So just like your hair or eye color, you're born with it.  It's not good or bad, its just different."

"Let me ask you guys a question, do you guys know the gaming devices, what are they Nintendo and PlayStation??"

They all started talking at once.  I think at first they wondered how an old person like me would even know about Nintendo or PlayStation.  Either way, you would have thought I told them Halloween was in twenty minutes.

They all started talking, "Oh My God, yeah!  We have those at home!  Do you know we have both?!?  You can't play them with each other....my dad says its a conspiracy."  No lie, that's what one kid said.  It was perfect.

All the kids were talking about which games they liked to play and which ones were better....

"Well yeah, OK, lets go back to those two kinds of games.  They both have different operating systems.  They are the same but different, right?  And like the brain, you can't see those differences, they are on the inside, right?  Just like the operating systems of the games---the differences are on the inside."

I had them thinking.  They were really quite and pondering.  The Doritos's were left off to the side of a criss-crossed applesauce set of legs.

"Well, lets say our brains are like those operating systems.  Lets say for this class you all have brains with a Nintendo Operating System, OK?  And let's say that Alex's brain, his brain, he has a PlayStation Operating System.  You guys following?"

Now a lot of heads were nodding up and down and there were a few hushed, "Ohhh's."

"So what that means is this, when your brain receives information from the world, lets say right now--me talking, the lawnmower outside, the hum of the computer, the rattling of your snack bags, all of it---your brain processes it with a Nintendo operating system.  Well, Alex's brain takes all that same information---me talking, the lawnmower outside, the hum of the computer, the rattling of your snack bags, all of it---he processes all that same information....but with a PlayStation operating system.  Ya still with me?"

I had twenty-three nodding heads and dead silence.  I could tell they were getting it, they were totally getting it.

"So what that means is....you all process information one way, and he processes that same information a different way.  It's not wrong, its not bad, its just different."

A hand went up.  "Is that why Alex uses headsets?"

It was like the floodgates had opened.  "Yeah, is that why he wears those things???  Can we see them?  Is that why he wiggles?  And shakes?  And leaves the class sometimes?  Hey, can we try the headsets?"

The kids knew.  They knew he was different, they always have.  They just didn't know why.  And they were afraid to ask, you could see it on their faces as plain as day.  All this time---they knew.

"Yeah, that's it.  His brain processes things differently from you so he responds differently.  So when you see him wiggle or.....you know how he pulls his shirt up over his mouth sometimes?"  And I had the kids.  They all looked around and were a bit uncomfortable here---Alex pulls his shirt up over his face as a stim.  The kids got it, they understood it.  They knew it was weird, it was different, it was kinda sorta not right.  They all knew it but they didn't know what to do or if it was even OK to ask why he does what he does.

"Well with Autism, sometimes the brain can get overloaded.  When that happens he needs a break.  That's when he leaves.  He goes down to the OT room and takes a break.  It gives his brain time to catch up with his body.  He's not in trouble or anything.  His body and brain just need a little extra time to catch up with everyone else."

And that, hands down, was the start of a the best time I've ever spent in the classroom.

I went through why he does what he does and how they can help.  How to be a friend, what to do with him and what not to do.  And that sometimes being a friend is work but in the end it would be worth it.

The whole time I kept my eye on Alex.  I was so worried about how he felt, about what I was saying.  I was outing him.

To be clear:  I asked him before I even agreed to talk to the class if he was OK with it.  I asked if he wanted me to do it and he agreed.  He wanted me to come in and talk to the class, he just didn't want to be there.  At the last minute, that morning, he changed his mind and we all agreed that we would keep to his wishes.  We would do what he wanted to do.  This was not about us.  This was about us helping him and if he was not happy with that, or uncomfortable in any way, then the deal was off.

The amazing part was?  As soon as the kids asked to see his headsets, Alex piped up from the back of the classroom, "You wanna see them?  That would be awesome!  Let me show you how they work...."  He worked his way from the back of the room to the center, with his headsets, and started showing them to the other kids.  And he smiled, a big happy smile.

And in that moment I found hope.

I found hope.

A story about autism and being different from Lizbethcole29

Things we did that worked:

• We respected what Alex wanted, every step of the way.  
• The teacher asked the students questions about what they knew, and didn't know, about Autism a few days prior to me coming in.  I worked those questions into the presentation. 
• I did a PowerPoint so the kids had something to look at.
• The PowerPoint was turned into school prior to me coming in so they knew what was going to be discussed.  No surprises.  
• A booklet, made directly from the PowerPoint, that went home with each child so their parents could see what we talked about.
• Using the comparison of a Nintendo Operating System to a PlayStation Operating System to define the differences in their brains.  For whatever reason, they totally understood what I was saying.  
• We kept it short.  The whole thing lasted 25 minutes, tops. 
• I could not have done this without our teachers and their support and understanding.  

I did forget to mention---around slide 13, where I talk about making friends, I went over "Social Rules" and how they are very difficult to understand.  That with Autism, he often needs help understanding what those rules really are.  It can be anything from standing in line, to playing a game of tag, to getting food from the cafeteria.  That all the rules they understand and just 'get' they are difficult for him.  I tied that back in to the areas where they can help.   

So that's it, I hope in some small way this helps if you are going into the classroom.

I'll make this easy. A crinoid is a fossil.

I'm always amazed at what comes home from school in my children's pockets, always amazed.  The kids have been back in school for a bit and I noticed something shake out of Alex's pocket when I was doing laundry. 

I should say, after I sent them through the washer and dryer.  When I went to pull out the lint trap, all the things fell down between the walls of the dryer.  With a hangar in one hand, and the vacuum attachment thing in the other, I started to fish the things out. 

Alex came up and started talking to my ass.  

"Mom, hey mom!  Have you seen my Crioids?  I brought three home from school.  I put them in my pants pocket on Friday and now I can't find them."

Why yes, they are 1/100th the size of a dime.  

"Ok, well hon, mommy's a little busy here.  Can you use your eyes and see what I'm doing?  Maybe we can talk in a few minutes?"  

You know, when you're not talking to my ass.  

"Alex hon, these things fell down into the dryer and I'm trying to fish them out.  Wait.  What did you call those things again?"  At this point, I was stuffed all the way in the dryer and it dawned on me that whatever he wanted, that's what was lodged between the walls of the dryer.  

"OK mom, talk later....but mom you have to clean the dryer vent every three months so you might as well do that now.  Did you know if you don't clean it, you'll have a greater risk of fire in your laundry tubing?  You should really clean that thing out while you're here.  You're doing a good job cleaning mom." 

All I could think of was, awesome social skills telling my ass I was doing a good job cleaning.  Sure he was talking directly to my rear end but whatever, he gave me a compliment.  

Anyway, something must have clicked in Alex's brain that I was fishing out his crinoids because all of a sudden my ass was getting yelled at.

"Oh My Gosh mom!!  You lost my crinoid in the washer!  Wait, no!!!  You lost it in the dryer...is that what you're getting out of the dryer?!?  Dear Lord in Heaven, you can't use the vacuum!  Aggghhh!!!  NOT THE VACUUM.   YOU MUST NOT SUCK UP MY CRINOIDS!!!!"

That was followed up by all sorts of gargling noises from Alex and me cussing after banging my head getting out of the dryer.  I finally got him calmed down over the vacuum, letting him know whatever we suck out of the dryer will be splayed out like an anatomy cat so we could collect his crinoids.  

The fear of the vacuum in our house is legendary.  LEGENDARY.  All I can say is vacuum plus Lego equal scarring traumatic life event.   

Anyway, we found one crinoid.  ONE.  He had three.  The other two were stuck in the walls of the dryer.  And news flash, that's where they're going to stay.

I found out while he's at recess, he likes to dig for fossils.  In the midst of all the kids running and playing, he digs.  There are a few other children that dig with him but for the most part he digs quietly by himself.  

A severe drought makes for one hell of a crinoid dig. 

And that's exactly why every night after school, for the past two weeks, we've been doing our own fossil dig.  We're looking for crinoids.  After the school settles down and all the kids go home, we slip back to the back corner of the playground and we dig.  

Silently.  Peacefully.  Next to each other.  Digging.  Every once in a while we shout, "Hey I got one!"  We share a quick smile and we slip right back into quiet.   

Our quiet.    

And so it begins...

So we came back from our quick trip, which you totally know I'm going to post on, but right now we're looking down the barrel of the gun called SCHOOL.

We had our annual IEP/meet the new teacher meeting a day or so ago and I'm nervously optimistic.  Every year, our school does this big thing where you gate rush the main doors of the school at 4:30PM.  That's when they post the student/teacher list for the year.  Right after that, everyone goes into school and spends time meeting the teacher, sorting through their school supplies and generally getting to know everyone.

This has always been a mess for Alex.  Let me rephrase that, it's what I call:  A Cluster-fuck of Epic Proportions.

To go into school with every single student, with parents and siblings in tow, is meltdown producing.  To go late in the afternoon is mind blowing.  And to not know what's going?  It makes him sick to his stomach.  Add all the excitement, the bustle, the noise and pushing and shoving and its all too much.  

Our school works very closely with us and for that I am grateful.  I know the teachers took out time from their day to help us, to help Alex.  To those teachers that are like mine--thank you.

We no longer do the massive meet and greet at 4:30PM.  We have a separate meeting a few days before.  I take Alex in to school and he gets to spend about 1/2 hour or so with his new teacher.  They sort out school supplies and they figure out where things go.  He gets to see his desk, where he's sitting and what the classroom looks like.  He finds his cubby, puts his supplies away and this is a big one---he gets to see the classroom schedule.

We just had our meeting for this upcoming year.

His teacher went over some of what they are going to learn this year and you could literally see him take it all in.  "Mom, we're going to learn cursive!  We're going to learn how to write in cursive!  Quick mom, where's my pencil?"

It was quiet.  It was calm.  He was nervous and he stimmed.  He sized up his new teacher and they nervously chatted.  He met his other teachers as well---he has three new teachers this year, so for us, this year is already one of tremendous change.

The first day of school was yesterday.
So far, so good.

He did so well meeting his teachers.  So incredibly well.  Sure, he stimmed and he was anxious and nervous beyond belief but he was also excited.

Excited.

And I'm hanging on to that excitement.  I have a feeling it will wear off sooner than we all expect and we'll be dealing with sensory overload and meltdowns but for right now I'm excited with him too.

Wish us luck.

We're being squeezed.

When Alex was younger I lived in fear that he wouldn't talk.  I think it was that way with all my kids, I think everyone worries to a certain degree about this.  Every last one of my kids started talking late and when they did start to talk?  They never stopped.  There was a steady stream of conversation, chatter in the house.

Both the girls have an understanding of when you can talk and when you can't.  Alex has not acquired this small bit of information.

Consequently, when he did start talking, he didn't stop.  When something was on his mind he'd blurt it out, whether it be at dinner, or smack in the middle of going to the bathroom.  I've been listening to this boy talk at me for eight years.

And the thing is, he doesn't let up.  He doesn't stop talking.  Ever.

Do you know how draining it is to have an eight year old question everything you do?  Or give you a running dialogue on how you could be doing it better?  Correcting you every time you make a mistake?

From taking the chicken out of the freezer, to how I use the computer, to how often he thinks he should take a shower, there is a conversation.  There is a negotiation, a lesson, or a correction, not for him---for me.

Every day.  All day.  The conversation does not stop.

And the thing is, it's my job to teach him the difference between talking to someone versus talking at someone.  It's been a hard lesson to pass on---for both of us.  

I've come to deal with this constant stream of conversation headed in my direction in several ways, depending on how much I can take, versus how willing I am to debate the issue at hand.

At first I was so damn happy he was talking, I talked back and engaged him.  He loved it.  I loved it.  But as he got older, the demands became something I couldn't handle.  I simply could not stand around and talk about how a lake's ecology progresses through time or how a battery functions or how the transformer on the telephone pole works.

I tried redirecting him to another project but that invariable let to more questions.  Even the volcano project we did last week ended up with us in front of the computer Googling the earth's mantle and the ring of fire.

Our volcano has jewels and grape sticks.
That's how we roll.

And now he's no longer is just interested in acquiring information.  He's interested in when I'm going to be done making dinner and he'll set time limits on what I do.  He's slowly trying to work our schedules around what he wants to do.  What he wants to do and when he wants it.

I couldn't figure out why we've had an uptick in behavior.

And then it dawned on me.  We moved into August.  He starts school in two weeks.  He's nervous, anxious, fearful.  He wants to go back to school but he's looking down that great big gaping maw called uncertainty.

I'm looking down it too.  For as busy as this summer has been, I've liked to see my kids stress free, wrangling with each other, and happy.

So for right now I've figured out what he needs and I'll be on the receiving end of our conversations.  I'm OK with that.

He said what? I wonder where he heard that from....

Today's Friday so can I get a big AMEN?  In the blogging world, or in the cool blogging world, that means we're doing horribly fun things with Ryan Gosling.  Visit Sunday over at Adventures in Extreme Parenthood and see what I'm talking about.

Alex's teacher met me at the flagpole for pickup yesterday afternoon.  I'll let that sink in for a moment.

Having the teacher come out and meet me at the flagpole used to make my stomach swirl with nausea.  A whole host of scenarios ran through my mind.  Did he lick someone?  Did he Tae Kwon Do anther kid?  Did he correct a teacher or tell them their lesson plan was inferior and subject to his review?  Or did he stop, drop and roll minus the fire?

You just never know.

Anyway, his teacher comes out to meet me every day now because we're in a sort of holding pattern.  We're stabilizing somewhere between full on benders and a variety stims.  He has about six stims going right now so in my mind I call it a six-pack.  Honestly, we're just biding out time till school lets out.

Fourteen days left if anyone's interested.  And yes, I'm counting each and every last one of them.

So she comes out of school with a small smile on her face, kind of laughing, so I knew it couldn't be that bad.

Alex?  Well, he wasn't smiling.  "Mom, Mrs. Smith says I said a bad word."

Fuck.  

"Err, you said a bad word?"  Now, a whole host of bad words went through my mind, rapid fire, in under a tenth of a second.  We all know I'm pretty fluent in the base vernacular of the English language.

My next thought was, "Please don't let it be the F-bomb, please don't let it be the F-bomb."

"Yeah Mom, Mrs. Smith says I used a bad word but its not fair.  You use it at home all the time."

Oh fuckety-fuck-fuck.  It was the F-bomb.  I'm so screwed. 

"I said I was pissed off and I got in trouble for it.  You told me it was OK to say I was pissed off when I was at home but now it's not OK to say it at school."

Oh thank you Baby Jesus.

Now his teacher turns and looks over at me, one eyebrow raised, questioning, "You let him say that at home?"

I turn and look at Alex and suddenly he had these big eyes, kinda like this:

Source

Well how can you resist that?  I couldn't lie and blame it on him.  I had to own it.

"Well, yes, I do let him say he's pissed-off when he's at home.  See, for the longest time Alex couldn't identify his emotions and had a hard time articulating how he was feeling.  Gaw, he just now started putting words to his emotions.  So when he was angry we made a scale from one to ten.  One was irritated and ten was super mad, like he was pissed off and ready to explode.  I thought it was important for him to correctly identify his emotional state, as he was feeling it, so we could work on the right calm down methods."

And that's the God's honest truth.

With that I give you my main man, Ryan.

On a different note, I wanted to thank Sunday for having me to her place yesterday.  It was a blast.  I want also thank those of you who went over and took the time to look, see and comment.  You have no idea what that means to me as your friendships are what pull me through.

If you still want to see it, I have it linked here.

And you totally know when his teacher was talking to me up there I was all, "I'm so going to blog about this."   And I did.

Squared vs Square Root. I don't know the difference either.

On Sunday night we get a weekly class update from Alex's teacher.  I normally glance at it and see what's going on for the next week.  Then I print it out, show it to Alex and get confirmation that he's read it.  Then I get confirmation that he's understood it.  And then get confirmation that he knows what's really going on for the next week.

And then I use four pieces of tape and tape that damn thing up on the wall so I don't forget and he doesn't forget.

That weekly newsletter is my lifeline.

So little alarm bells went off in my head when I saw the words: TALENT SHOW THURSDAY.  I immediately asked Alex what it was all about and he wasn't fussed.  A little annoyed that I was asking about it, I think.

You know me, I couldn't let it rest.  I had to find out, these things tend to blow up in my face.  *See the Muffins With Mom's post if you don't believe me.*

"Hey Alex, it says there will be a Talent Show on Thursday.  What are you going to do?"  I was getting a little worked up because he was more interested in his computer game.

"Mom, I have it all figured out.  I know what I'm going to do."  And he went back to his game.

Pffft.

Clearly I had to get a little more creative.  "Alex honey, do you think you could tell me what you're planning on doing for the talent show?  Maybe I can help you."

My panties were in a total bunch about this damn talent show and I was going to find out what he was doing.

"Well no mom, you can't help me.  It has to do with math and you're not good at math.  I'm going to explain the difference between square roots and squaring a number.  Take the number nine.  Nine squared is eighty-one but the square root of nine is three.  See the difference?  Then I'm going to take questions and they can quiz me.  It's math and it's going to be fun."

Someone give me the answers.....please?!?  

To which I found my calculator, figured out he was right and said, "You're right, I'm not good at math."

And Thursday, I was in the classroom and I saw him do his talent and he explained the difference between squared and square roots and he had fun with it.

No, he rocked it.

The other kids and I, we didn't have a fucking clue what he was talking about but he was having fun.

No, he had the time of his life.



OMG, OMG, OMG, you totally have to go over to Sunday's place tomorrow.  I'm so going to be guest posting.   I'm going to be guest posting at Adventures in Extreme Parenthood!!!!  OMG, OMG, OMG!!!

I may have to wear a Poise and use it, I'm so excited.  And I think she even kept my cuss words in.  *Swoon.*   


There, now I'm done begging.  I must go and hook on Facebook...yes, that's you're cue to go "like" me, so you can see me at Sunday's tomorrow!!!  See how I did that?  That was awesome....

I'm in the dumps, somebody get me out of here.

So our little world is crumbling all around us and I'm doing everything I can to help Alex hang on by a thread.  His SPED teacher went on maternity leave yesterday and he'll be without her for the remainder of the year.  

One day into this and he's already had his first meltdown while at OT and it was a good one.  A doozy even.  So bad he lost his mind and didn't even know it. I was just thankful it wasn't at my house.    

We talked about it later and he said, "I don't even know what happened to me," and started crying.  

He's brought back some old stims and is showing all the signs of being under a large amount of stress.  

I'm doing what I can but nothing hurts worse than seeing your own child come slowly unhinged, bit by bit, right before your very eyes.  

His General Education teacher has gone above and beyond and for that I am eternally grateful.  She's been working with me, doing what she can to help him in so many ways possible.  She truly gets Alex and knows how hard these next few weeks are going to be.  I wish she could really know how much her support and understanding means to me.

I have to switch gears hear because I fear I can't get through the rest of this post without bawling.  Instead, I'll give you a picture of what Alex likes to do best.    

Double fisting, baby.  Double fisting.
I-touch and I-pad .

And I know this sounds silly but look, no cuss words in the whole post.

No offense, I much prefer the posts in which I cuss.

Go on and touch her already. Just a little touch.

Do you ever just get to the point where you go, "Eh, Christ, I'm sick of this and I want to go home."  Only you are home and there really is no other place for you to go? Anybody?  Anybody??

Or is it just me?  If its just me, please be generous and lie and make stuff up in the comments.  Tell me about your pet pony, I don't care.  

So I've gone on and on about how blissful our summer has been and like a vise grip getting tighter and tighter I can see my happy little boy slipping away from me.  Out of my grasp.

Our window is closing in on us.

And I'm scared.

I can see Alex's sphincter tighten as we get closer to next week and I'm dying a thousand deaths for him.

We had our last swim lesson and he was so sad and mad and I don't know what that he went up and slugged his instructor.  Normally he loves this girl.  Not today.  He didn't know how to tell her he was sad and mad and I don't know what and the next thing I knew he hauled off and just slugged her.

Even with his back turned
I know.  

Everything has been so rough on him in the past few days.  He's been trying desperately to hold it together and he just fell apart today.  And of all things it was when we ran out of cookies at the pool.  Cookies.

And he melted.

"Mom, Lizzy ate all the cookies and I'm hungry."  He's already started bawling, his chins quivering, snot running down his nose, over his lips and down his chin.  Rivers of tears streaming down each cheek.

Like a switch that's been turned on, I can see what's coming.

"I'm so hungry, Mom.  I want to go home."  He's pacing in circles.  Flapping.

"No babe, we're not going home.  Lizzy's not done with her lesson.  We have to stay."

"I WANT TO GO HOME!  I WANT TO GO HOME NOW!  NOW! NOW! NOW!  TAKE ME HOME NOW!"

He's going in circles, faster.  He's still sobbing.  And flapping.  He gets to our stuff and starts throwing the empty cookie bag and launched it across the pool deck.  Moved on to tossing the water bottle and all the goggles in the pool and got part way through our bag, chucking things out before I could get to him.  And I was all of one chair down.

Lizzy, not a care in the world. 

What he lacks in coping skills he makes up for in speed.        

"No.  No, hon.  We're not going home.  We have to wait."

"I WANT TO GO HOME.  NOW!  I WANT TO GO HOME!"

He's moved on to sobbing hysterically, his whole body wracked with waves of angst.  "I WANT TO GO HOME."  I'm trying to hold on to him.  He's pushing me away.

He's moved on just that quickly from throwing things to curling up on himself, on the pool chair.

It always amazes me the fury that can be unleashed in a split second.  And the next, yet just as startling, is the child curled up so tightly in a ball, so vulnerable.  Scared.

"I know.  I know.  I know.  I'm sad too."  I say sitting next to him, trying not to get too close for fear of setting him off again.  "It stinks that Tracy has to go away for college and this is your last lesson.  I know that.  It makes my body sad too.  And I'm a little mad and a scared too.  Ya wana go over and tell Tracy you'll miss her?  You don't have to say anything you can just go over and touch her.  Just a touch.  She'll know what you're saying."

"NO.  I WANT TO GO HOME."  He's not moved an inch, just talking to me through the slats of the pool chair.

"I know, I know. But listen to me.  Did you know if you use your words, she'll understand your feelings?  She will.  Trust me.  I bet she's sad too."

He sat all though his sister's lesson curled up in the fetal position.  Was a moody as a feral cat coming back home.  Refused to talk to Tracy the rest of her time with us.

Right as she was walking out the door he went up to her.  Touched her on her hand and walked away.

He's been up in his room on his computer ever since listening to his music and making mazes.

There are so many things that are upsetting to me about what happened.  I know this scenario will replay itself all day, just with a different trigger.  He was unable to use words but for him to make that move, that touch, gives me pause.

It gives me hope.

It's Double Bubble at our house.

It's no secret that my son has anxiety problems.  He fidgets, bounces from foot to foot, gets up, sits down, gets up and sits down again.  He's in constant motion until he falls asleep.  Even then, he's rubbing the blanket to determine the texture and thread count. 

I don't know why I was shocked when he started up with vocal stims.  But I was.  He had a bout with strep a while ago and from that he developed a habit cough which spiraled into a full fledged stim.  At one point he was up to over fifty coughs in under two minutes.  I stopped counting after that. 

After school turned it into a complete cluster asking him to stop, to get a drink or eat some magic mints we went into habit reversal mode.  Step one: ignore the problem habit.  That's as far as we got.  The stim went down but not away.

He started to have other vocal noises--chirps, boops, squeaks, raspberries, beeps, you get the idea.  After visiting with our child psychologist, we came up with the idea to use gum to help with the stims.  Give him the gum to transfer the stim. 

It seems to be working.

He has a preference though.  It has to be Double Bubble.  Not Hubba Bubba.  Is there a difference?  You bet your ass there is.  I made that mistake exactly once.  Double Bubble.  No exceptions.  So I've taken stock in Double Bubble and supplied the school with their own stock pile. 

We did have one blip on the gum thing.  School has a rule and it specifically states: "No chewing gum on school premises."  We had to do some pretty hard work on letting him know it was OK for him to chew the gum while at school. 

And he's going to need a mandible replacement at the rate he's chewing.  He's been averaging seven pieces of gum a day while at school so I've been bringing them in a new bag of gum every week and a half. 

The noises are down and it seems to be working so I'll brave the eternal fires of hell (WalMart) to get his beloved gum.

For future reference, Target only stocks Hubba Bubba.  Yes, I was that desperate not to go to WallyWorld. 

Don't judge me.   

Now I'm off to get more Double Bubble.


Note:  I know I'm using terms loosely here.  Things such as stim, habit, tics.  Honestly, to me, they basically amount to the same thing.  Things he does to help block or filter stress or help calm him with his anxiety.  I've not put too much emphasis on what the correct vocabulary is but rather why he's doing it and how I can find the right way to help him.  Please excuse my lack of technical adherence on this post.  


I wrote this a while ago and his vocal stims are still present.  He's added new ones such as rolling his bottom lip with his fingers and he's been twitching his neck, mainly on his left side.  He's recently added a vigorous head shake.  I know it's all anxiety related to school winding down as they decrease significantly after being home for the weekends.  


We're all ready for school to be over soon!  Two more days, a week off, then we're taking this hot mess on the road to Sanibel.  Fair warning if you live in the vicinity......

The mystery of the pine cones.

Over the past several days I've noticed strange things coming home in Alex's pants and coat pockets.  He's been bringing home pine needles, pine cones and the seeds from the cone. 

I pulled a pair of pants from the washing machine and out fell a bunch of pine needles.  I found pine cones in two other jackets, the pockets stuffed full. 

I asked Alex why I was finding pine cones and this is what he told me:

He was playing with them, by himself, at recess and a classmate came over and stated she wanted them.  And then she took them.  He told her he was playing with them and she took them anyway.  Ever since he's been pocketing things and hiding them from her.

I asked him why he didn't go to his para or teacher for help and said he couldn't.  If a disagreement was a "small thing" the kids are supposed to try and work it out themselves.  Fair enough.  Under normal circumstances I actually think that's a pretty good policy. 

I pushed him a little further and said something like, "But you told her you were playing with them and she took them anyway, that doesn't sound small to me..."  Honestly, it sounds like she was bullying you, that little hussy.  I kept my mouth shut on that last part. 

He said, "No. No, mom.  The pine cones are small, so I had to work it out on my own.  Those are the rules..."

The pine cones were small and therefore couldn't ask for help.  Such a literal interpretation of the rules. 

The next day I was in his resource teacher's office (I swear I think my car could drive there itself sometimes) explaining the situation.  We have it all worked out now, but it just goes to show how something so simple can be misconstrued or misinterpreted.   How literal and rule bound he is.  How he held on to the other child taking his things and he did what he thought best which, honestly, was not the best thing to do at all.  It shows how vulnerable he really is.

I've not seen any more pine needles or cones come home yet.  I'm off to check the backpack...

V-day, the aftermath...

Dear Cupid,
My kids have been all cracked out waiting for your special day and like a three day old balloon their expectations are going to pop.  While you go back to where ever it is you go, I'm going to be the one standing here with a broom and dustpan having to clean up your sorry mess. 

Valentine's Day, morning expectations:

• Alex has been working up to you because they have parties in the classroom.  Gasp.  And I'm freaking out.  He loves the idea of a party, he just malfunctions at the actual event. 
• Lizzy has her party this morning so I get to go and be 'normal mom' before I become the 'crazy, overprotective, oh my god my kid going to blow any second now lets see if we can sneak out the side door mom.'

Valentine's Day, what actually happened:

• I missed the first 2/3rd's Lizzy's party because I had the time wrong in my calendar.  Crap.  Did I say crap?  Crap.  We go to Wendy's to make up for my being a total dip-shit.  
• We play Farm Frenzy all afternoon to make up for my my being a total dip-shit.
• We make it (on time) to Alex's party.  Lizzy notices this fact and I can see she thinks I love him more than her.  Crap.
•  Baby Gracie's nap is smack in the middle of Alex's party.  I bring her, she wakes up.  She screams.  And screams some more.
• I have no pictures because I forgot the camera for Lizzy's party and if I bring it to Alex's party it would confirm Lizzy's worst fear--I love Alex more than her.  I don't but you try to explain it to my five year old.  Crap.
• Alex freaks out because kids were going up to the snack table and that's "not what they're supposed to do..." 
• He freaked again about snack because "it's not happening at the time it should be on the class schedule."
• We left early.  Out the side door.
• We've now listened to "Hello" by Martin Solvig like a million times since we got home and I liked that song.  Once.  A long time ago.  While jogging.  Without kids.  Alone.
• We ate leftovers for dinner.  The kids fought.  I still can't get that song out of my head.
• Red Robe came back. 
• Holiday complete.

My Valentine from Alex.



On the inside--Dear Dad.  Dad?!?  He erased over mom and wrote dad.  That's rich.



See ya next year Cupid.  You horrible naked baby with wings.

She was me...

Lizzy is going to kindergarten next year so I headed out to the meeting for all the parents.  We missed this last year for Alex because we moved in from out of town and didn't arrive until two weeks into the kindergarten school year.  So there I was with some familiar faces and some new ones.  I was struck by several things:

• How utterly boring it was to be doing this for my, dare I say it, normal kid.  I didn't have to worry about all the routines, sensory breaks, food aversions, noise levels, bright lights, and all the fallout if something went wrong.  I could sit back and act like a normal mom.  Weird.

•  The mom's who currently have boys in Alex's class who also have siblings in Lizzy's class.  They ignored me.  Like, they walked a circle around me, sat down at another table and then begrudgingly said "Hi."  Making sure all the chairs at their table were full--just to be sure I wouldn't join them.  You see, last year they all caught on pretty quick that Alex was different.  These moms spread the word like wildfire that my little boy was "special"  and needed extra help.  They all have normal/neuro-typical boys and they act as if what Alex has is contagious. I've gotten over the fact that these women are excluding  me.  I've not gotten over how it affects my son.  I don't think I ever will.  

• The other thing I noticed was another mom.  She was sitting by herself, legs crossed, furiously bouncing them under the table.  She'd alternate between bouncing her legs and tapping her pen on the table.  She was nervous.  Like, way nervous.  I kept watching her.  Something about her bugged me.  It took me until almost the end of the evening.  And then it dawned on me---she was what I would have been last year if I had gone to this meeting.  She was me.  Her child has special needs.  She was alone and silently freaking out.  

So I did the only thing I knew to do.  I walked up to her after the meeting and said, "Hi, my name is Lizbeth..."


Her son has Sensory Processing  Disorder and is being evaluated for Asperger's and  PDD/NOS.  




I'm so excited, we're getting warmer weather! 
Snowman, your days are numbered...



The car line and my Aspie

We did it!  After almost two years he's graduated to being dropped off in the car line!  I am one proud mama. 

To give a little background, I've been walking Alex into school ever since he first showed up on their doorstep.  I would walk him into the classroom and get him settled in every morning.

That was the hardest part of his day--and he was only there half-day.  All the hustle, bustle, other kids pushing, shoving, putting coats away, getting book bags hung up and folders out.  All the commotion and noise--it was too much for him.  I could see him unravel every morning right before my very eyes.
 
I gave the school the benefit of the doubt for one week.  After that I moved in.  I changed his drop off time to 10 minutes after school started.  I made a morning schedule and made sure it was implemented.  He had a sensory break 30 minutes into the morning, every morning.  He was equipped with noise reducing head phones and me at his side.  And he (we) did OK.   

As time progressed we tapered him back to the traditional start time. 

From there we kept backing off his supports with time.  I would drop him off at his kindergarten door and then we advanced to the main school door.  Over the past few months I've backed off and let him walk to the main door by himself.

It was decided that after winter break we would try the car line.  Now I'll tell you something about our morning car line---these women are ruthless.  I've seen some of them get out and yell at other moms for doing it the wrong way.  They honk, they cuss, they cut you off and flip you off. 

They're awful and I'm afraid of them. 

Truth be told, I was quite happy with our little system we had going but he has to grow up, right?  The only saving grace is that the morning car line is more behaved than the afternoon car line.  They make the morning moms look like a petting zoo.  Tame.  Sedate.  Behaved.  I'm just happy to be meeting him out front after school, at the flagpole, where its safe.

Anyway, we've been doing the morning thing for a few weeks.  As he jumped out the car this morning he proudly states, "Mom, I think I want to do the car line after school!"  He's beaming.  So proud. 

OH CRAP



Alex at the school carnival, watching a magic show.